


Blue As The Stars, Dark As The Sea

by TobuIshi



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tales, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Mermaids, Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobuIshi/pseuds/TobuIshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago and far away, o my palest beloved, in a world not so very unlike our own, there stood a little hive by the sea, all built of gray stone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue As The Stars, Dark As The Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mericorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mericorn/gifts).



Long ago and far away, o my palest beloved, in a world not so very unlike our own, there stood a little hive by the sea, all built of gray stone. And in that hive there lived a cerulean trollmaid. She was a clever maid and a pretty one, with hair as dark as a moonless night and eyes as blue as the stars, and her name was Aranea. Her lusus had died sweeps before, and although she had survived, being strong and brave, she was alone in the world, and terribly lonely.

The hive was built from the stone of the cliff upon which it sat, and the sea winds blew sharp and cold around it on its high perch. But where the blocks of stone had been carved away, there ran a little stair down the face of the cliff, winding hither and thither like the footprints of a climbing spider. Every evening, when the moons rose and there was light enough to find her way, the little trollmaid liked best in the world to climb down those steps to the sea.

At the bottom there was a tiny cove, beringed with tall jagged stones that sheltered it from the biting wind and the crashing waves. There she would catch fish or dig for clams, filling her skirts with good food. Sometimes she found pretty stones or treasures, washed ashore from passing ships, for in those days gamblignants still plied the waters, and when their red sails passed the little trollmaid would hasten behind the shelter of the rocks and peep out at the creaking vessels with mingled awe and terror. And sometimes, when the sea was smooth and calm, she would simply sit on the white sand, with her knees drawn up to her chin and her bare feet tucked under her skirts, and watch the light of moonrise playing pink and green upon the dark horizon.

This is where our story finds her, my palest diamond. Come close, and listen!

One evening, when the trollmaid had climbed down the steps to gather shells for a necklace, she heard something she had never heard before in her little cove. It was not the sound of flapbeasts circling over their nests in the cliffs. And it was not the sigh of the wind or the thunder of the waves against the rocks. She heard all of these familiar sounds, but woven among them was the sound of a voice, singing softly. Frightened, the trollmaid quickly hid herself behind the nearest rock, and took the blunt and battered digging knife from her belt, and listened intently.

It was not a beautiful song. Half the notes were hummed under the singer's breath as if the words were long forgotten, in a tuneless wandering sort of way. As she listened, the singer missed a note badly and muttered a curse. The trollmaid covered a laugh, in spite of herself. Then, unable to control her curiosity, she crept forward, staying close to the shelter of the rocks, to get a better look.

And what do you suppose she saw, diamond of my night sky? Sitting on a stone by the mouth of the cove, there was another little trollmaid like herself! She was a strange, wild-looking creature, wearing nothing but gold bracelets around her slim wrists and rings upon her fingers, and a golden crown upon her dark hair, which was so long that it cascaded over her bare shoulders and covered her like a cloak, and trailed in the water below. She had a comb in one hand and a handful of that long hair in the other hand, and she was busily combing out all the sand and bits of shell that were tangled up in the unruly locks.

Our own little trollmaid could hardly believe her eyes. But it was not the last surprise in store for her, my palest, not by a long shot! For as she watched, the stranger finished her work, and - quick as a wink! - she tucked away the comb in a little bag strung round her waist, and swiftly braided up her hair into two tight plaits. And what do you think that revealed? Not the pearly gray legs of a young trollmaid; nor a skirt, nor trousers; but a long flashing tail like a fish's, spangled with fuschia scales.

The mermaid - for that is what she was, my dearest - tossed her head with its long braids, pleased to have her hair out of the way again, and let out a little chuckle. Then, sleek as a seal, she turned on her rock and dove into the water with a bright splash, and the flukes of her tail churned the water into a sparkling froth as she swam back toward the sea.

But the trollmaid felt a terrible regret as she watched the mermaid go. It swelled over her like a great wave, and swept her out from behind her rock in a mad dash down the sloping sands. Her feet struck the water and kicked up drops in every direction, but she kept running without a pause, and before she knew it she was up to her waist in the cold water, shouting with her hands cupped round her mouth, "Wait! Wait! Oh, please, come back!"

For a dreadful long moment, the surface of the little cove lay still and empty. The trollmaid slowed, then stopped, swaying a little as the incoming tide pushed at her legs. Perhaps the mermaid hadn't noticed her at all. Worse yet, perhaps she had frightened her away!

Then there was a sudden ripple of color under the water, and - splash! - a dark, sleek head broke the surface. She was close enough for the trollmaid to see the color of her eyes, which were as lovely a fuschia as her scales.

"What do you want?" snapped the mermaid.

The trollmaid hesitated. "I...I don't know. I mean, I'm not really sure. That is to say..."

This made the mermaid wrinkle her nose in disgust. "Then what the shell were you hollerin' at me for? Landglubbers," she sighed with a roll of her lovely eyes, and turned to swim away again.

"Oh, please don't go!" cried the trollmaid. She felt as if she might cry, and it finally occurred to her why. "I haven't anyone else to talk to, and I...I'm lonely! Nobody else ever comes here at all! Please stay, oh, please!"

The mermaid tipped her dripping head on one side, and gave her a shrewd look. "I ain't your fairy codlusus," she said. "My ancestor's the Sea Queen, and I'm gonna be Sea Queen after her. I've got reefsponsibilities and shit! Can't sit around chewin' the blubber with every abalonely charity case that washes up."

The trollmaid felt despair welling up inside her. But as you remember, my palest and dearest, she was not just a pretty girl, but a clever one as well. And at that moment, her starry-blue eyes caught sight of the golden bangles on the mermaid's arms, and she was struck with an inspiration.

"I could make it worth your while," she blurted.

One of the mermaid's eyebrows arched. "Oh, reelly?" she said, and the trollmaid knew that her web was well spun.

Quickly, she pulled a blue enamel pin from her hair and held it out. "I propose a trade," she said. "For every day you stay and let me talk to you, I'll give you something pretty, like this."

The mermaid's other eyebrow arched up to join the first. She was a proud, vain creature, and she liked nothing better than to deck herself with gold and jewels. "Oh, reeeelly?" she said, and darted out a hand like a swift fish to snatch the bauble.

But the trollmaid was quicker, and she closed her fist around it and drew it back just in time, and smiled, because she knew her fish was hooked.

"Whale," said the mermaid, a little miffed. "When you put it that way...all right. But I ain't floatin' around all day for one pin. You get one story, and then I'm outta here."

"Done," said the trollmaid, and tucked the pin back in her hair, for safekeeping. She settled herself comfortably on the sands, and cleared her throat. "Once upon a time, there lived a pirate queen..."

As it happened, the mermaid was not as clever a negotiatior as she thought; for the trollmaid knew a great lot of stories, and what's more, she knew how to spin a story out as long as trollishly possible. The moons had waltzed far across the night sky before she finally drew her tale to a close.

"...and she had a thousand more adventures after that, and stole more treasure than you or I could possibly imagine, and lived happily ever after, like all the best heroines always do."

"Right," said the mermaid, shaking herself awake from a half-doze on the wet sands, and held out her hand. "Whelk, that was a waste of a perflukely good night. I otter call you Chatfish. Anywhale, pay the sandpiper already." You can see by this that she liked puns nearly as well as she liked gold, my beloved.

Reluctantly, the trollmaid pulled the pin out of her hair and pressed it into her hand. The mermaid let out a triumphant little 'ha!' and pushed off into the water to swim away.

"Goodbye!" called the trollmaid, waving gaily after her. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered the mermaid. She was not at all sure if it was worth coming back. But she had a great weakness for things that shone and things that glittered, my palest, as I told you before.

And sure enough, when the trollmaid climbed down the steps the next evening, there was the mermaid, sitting at the edge of the white sands and just braiding up her neatly brushed hair.

"All right, Chatfish," she said, gruffly, by way of a greeting. "Where's the glubbin' treasure, huh?"

The trollmaid smiled, and pulled another pin from her hair and showed it to her. Carefully, she sat on a stone where it was dry and spread her skirts neatly around her. "I have a name, you know," she said, "and it isn't Chatfish.  It's Aranea."

"Like I give a tiderip," said the mermaid, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin in her hands like a wiggler. "C'mon, let's get this over with."

Now, you or I might be discouraged by a welcome like that, my dearest diamond! But Aranea had never had anyone to listen to her before, and she was much too pleased with herself to let the mermaid spoil her fun. Instead, she launched happily into her second tale, which she had been up all night imagining. It had a lonely girl in it, and magic, and quite a lot of swordfighting and adventure.

The tide crept slowly up the beach, and was slipping away down it again by the time she was finished. Again the mermaid snatched her prize, and started to swim away into the moonlit sea; but at the mouth of the cove, she stopped, treading water with strong sweeps of her tail.

"Hey!" she shouted back, waving her new treasure over her head. "I'm Meenah! And you betta not forget it!"

And that, my palest, was the beginning of a lovely chapter in the little trollmaid's life, and in the mermaid's as well, though she would swallow a dozen fishhooks rather than admit it. Every evening, Meenah would swim up on the beach and listen to a story, and every morning, Aranea would give her a gift and bid her farewell.

Bit by bit, the little trollmaid gave away all of her hairpins, and her ribbons, and every last one of the pretty stones and shells she'd found on the beach, and even her one and only silver necklace, the only real jewelry she had ever owned.

And inevitably, one evening, she discovered that she had nothing left to give away, except the dress on her back and the shoes on her feet.

It was with a heavy heart that Aranea climbed down the stairs to the sea that evening, for she knew very well that without any trinkets to trade, she had no right by their agreement to ask Meenah to stay. By the time she reached the bottom, there was a desperate plan forming in her clever head.

Not knowing any of this, the mermaid looked up eagerly when she saw her talkative trollmaid walking across the sand. Her long braids were woven with ribbons now, and her crowned head spangled with bright hairpins, and the trollmaid's necklace lay on her bare breast, so that she made a cheerful, lovely sight against the white sand and the waves.

"So!" she crowed. "What's it gonna be today? Dragons? Princesses? You're not runnin' outta shella-boring stories yet, are ya?"

But Aranea didn't sit on the sand, and she didn't say a word. She just stood there, with the sea wind blowing her skirts around her sturdy legs. And the mermaid felt a quiver of confusion in her brash heart.

"Hey," she blurted. "What's up, Chatfish? Don't tell me you got nuthin' to say!"

Carefully, Aranea knelt down in the surf and reached out for Meenah's hand. "I'm sorry," she said, and a tear ran down her cheek, which gave the mermaid a nasty shock indeed, o my diamond. "I haven't got anything else to trade. But I'm going to find something soon, I promise, so don't you dare forget me! I'll be back soon, I swear!" she cried, and before the mermaid could think of a reply, she had given her hand a quick fierce squeeze and run away back up the sandy shore.

"Hey!" Meenah shouted, quite bewildered. "Whale're you goin'?"

But she was already gone, and all that was left was a line of footprints in the white sand.

Now, that is the first part of our story over and done with, my dearest. And it might easily have been the end of it altogether, for a mermaid is a proud creature, and Meenah was the proudest of all her kind. She returned the next night, and the night after that, but there was no sign of Aranea whatsoever; even her footprints had been washed away by the tide. The mermaid had been well paid for her trouble, and that ought to have been enough.

However, as the moons waxed and waned through their cycles, something very odd happened on that little white beach. For some strange reason, Meenah could not, quite, bring herself to give up. Night after night, she swam back to the cove and waited on the sand, telling herself stubbornly that Aranea might be back any night with more glittering treasure to trade.

At last, there came a night when Meenah looked up at the sky, where the stars sparkled as bright and blue as a trollmaid's eyes, and realized with a grim jolt that a full perigee had passed.

"So much for 'soon'," she muttered to herself, quite annoyed. "So much for 'I swear'," she grumbled, quite frustrated. And with a toss of her braids, she turned and dove into the rippling water, and swam away.

Deep, deep into the sea she swam, with her tail a bright swirl behind her. She swam past fish and she swam past whales, and she flashed under ships so quickly that they never spotted her. She dove deep into the darkest waters, right down among the roots of the islands themselves where it was too deep for the slightest ray of moonlight to penetrate, where strange vast creatures moved slowly in the valleys between the continents of the world.

This was the realm of the Sea Queen, the Star of the Ocean and the Mother of All That Swam. Her embrace could comfort as easily as it could drown, but although she was both beautiful and terrible, to the little mermaid she had only one name.

"Ma!" she yelled, streaking through the water toward the crystal palace she sometimes called home. "Hey, Ma!"

The Sea Queen rose from her bed of shells with a gentle smile playing about her lips. She might once have been playful and brash in her own youth, my palest, but she had grown calm and wise with the weighty knowledge of long ages, as heavy as the gold and twining coral that crowned her brow. Brightly colored cuttlefish darted here and there among the dark floating forest of her hair, and their strange luminescence lit the chamber in shifting motes of rainbow light.

"Meenah," she sighed, and spread her arms wide. They were loaded with bracelets which clinked softly. "Welcome home, child. Are you hungry? You've swum a long way."

The mermaid sniffed brusquely. "I ain't here for the food, Ma," she grumbled, curling her lip. "I need a favor."

"Anything you wish for can be yours, child," the Sea Queen said, mildly enough, "if you are willing to pay the price, but I cannot promise that it will not be steep. What do you need?"

Ah, my diamond, now a strange look passed over the face of our little mermaid. She hemmed and hawed, twisting her fins this way and that, and finally she said, "It's this landglubber girl."

A knowing look crinkled the eyes of the Star of the Ocean. "Ah," she said, and nothing more.

"I found her on this beach one night. She's crazy needy, I swear you ain't never seen anyfin like it. All she does is talk and talk, on and on, but she never says anything! Just makes up these dumb stories about heiresses and dragons and cavalreapers and pirates and sorcerors..."

"Mm," said the Mother of All That Swims, and nothing more.

"...and I was goin' every night to listen, outta the goodnets of my heart an' all, and then the other night she was just gone! Poof! Ran off and left me beached! And..." Here Meenah ran up against a seawall, in her story and in her heart. By all accounts, she was rid of a troublesome burden. But then why did the white sands in that little cove feel so lifeless and cold? Why did the cries of the gulls there sound so mournful?

"Whelk," she sputtered, finally. "Somebody's gotta make sure she didn't fall down a ditch somewhales. You know how those landglubbers can be."

"Oh, dear," said the Sea Queen, with laughter in her ageless eyes. "I'm afraid you're right. There's nothing for it. You'll have to go and seek her yourself."

Meenah let out a squeal of delight. "Sea, now that's what I'm glubbin' about!" she cried. For it had always been a secret hope of hers to see what the world of the landdwellers was like, and perhaps discover some golden treasure of her own there.

But her ancestor had not lived so very long without learning a thing or two about the nature of merfolk, and the smile that she smiled now was more knowing than ever; and perhaps a bit sad.

"I offer you this bargain, child," she said, and took a golden ring from her finger. "You shell have your legs and your freedom, until the moons have turned their raiment once. Carry this ring with you at all times, and when you return to the shore, dive deep with it upon your finger and you shall receive again your birthright and your fins. But if you delay and remain wandering on the land for longer than from perigee to perigee, or if you are careless and lose it somehow, your right to rule someday after me will die with the fading rays of moonset, and you shell not be a mermaid again."

Ah - a wiser head might have stopped to think, my best and dearest, without losing all caution in the thrill of triumph. But this was not Meenah's moment to think. She was all action and always had been, and she snatched the ring from her ancestor's hand with a gurgle of delight. In a whirl of bubbles and a flash of fuschia fins, she vanished toward the surface.

"Farewell, child," murmured the Star of the Ocean, gazing up after her through the waving forest of her own hair.

And that is the second part of our story, my diamond sweet; but for Meenah, it was the beginning of long days of trouble.

She imagined none of this, however, when she hauled herself out of the frothing sea onto the beach, and slipped the golden ring onto her finger. You can imagine her delight, my dearest, when her scaly tail was bathed in bright light, which faded to reveal two long and knobby-kneed legs. With gleeful fascination, she examined her own smooth gray skin, and flexed her knees and curled her long bony toes.

I shall not ask you to guess how many times she fell down while testing her new ability to walk upright. Suffice to say that it was just as well that she practiced in the shallows, and that by the time the moons were high in the sky, she was confident enough to challenge the narrow and winding stone stairs that led up the cliff. Carefully she climbed, clinging to the stone with all her might and stubbornly refusing to look down at the waters she left behind.

But oh, my palest heart, the disappointment that struck her when she reached the top! For there stood before her the smoking wreck of what had once been a graceful hive, on ground crisscrossed with the footprints of a band of raiders and their lusii. What would a mermaid know about fire? No-one was there to tell her that the flames were recent, the stones still smoking and warm; that this was the plundering of an empty hive, and not a direct attack on a dwelling.

It was lucky for once, then, that her sheer stubborn pigheadedness overruled her common sense. Meenah snorted her defiance at the ashes and waded gingerly into the wreckage, pushing away the coals with a stick and fishing out what she could - a cinder-pocked blanket to use for a dress, some rags to wrap her tender feet.

Then, leaning on her stick to help her fledgling balance, she began to search the road for any sign of the trollmaid.

Alas for her wasted efforts, for the road was churned by many feet into an unreadable jumble that would have thwarted the most experienced tracker, and Meenah was anything but. She paced this way and she paced that way, examining broken branches and muddy footprints until her eyes ached, and finally she let out a cry of frustration, picked up a stone, and threw it as hard as she could into the woods.

"Ouch!" cried something, and a pale winged thing flew up out of a bush with a crashing of branches. "W-what did you do that for?" the tinkerbull asked plaintively; and there was just enough fish left in Meenah, my dearest, that she understood it.

"Whelk, how was I s'posed to know you were there, huh?" Meenah snapped; and then a thought occurred to her. "Say, you seen a trollmaid leavin' this hive? Big blue eyes, never shuts up?"

The tinkerbull flitted up into a branch, well out of reach, and gave her a suspicious look. "Um, what if I did? Why sh-should I tell you?"

Meenah thought fast, and you'll have already guessed her tactic, my dearest, for it had served her well when Aranea used it. "I'll trade you somefin if you tell me which way she went."

Tilting its little head this way and that, the tinkerbull thought it over. Finally, it buzzed down to a safe distance and said, shyly but firmly, "Um...give me your pretty rings, then? They're just the size for my hooves. And...and no take-backs!"

It was like pulling teeth, but after quite a bit of fruitless dickering, Meenah reluctantly stripped the rings from her fingers - all but the last, which the Sea Queen had given her - and left them in a glittering pile on the forest floor.

"She went, um...north by northwest," the tinkerbull told her, after it had put on its new finery and perched again. "Along the path. I heard her saying something about hunting for treasure, in the Sleeping Forest, and...well, if I were you, I'd follow her quick. It was almost a perigee ago!"

And that, my palest, was the beginning of a journey.

The road was a long one. How she walked, my diamond dear! She walked over hills and she walked through forests. She walked along smooth roads and she walked through tangled brakes and sucking swamps. By day, she crawled into caves or huddled in dense bushes for shelter from the blazing sun.

There were hives here and there along the road. One by one, seething with frustration, she traded away every last hairpin and ribbon for food and shelter, for warm shirts and trousers, for blankets and sturdy boots. Always, she asked about the cerulean trollmaid. But in tree-hives and cave-hives, castle-hives and hut-hives, all along the road the answer was the same: "She passed this way last perigee, but I haven't seen her since."

Finally, at the end of a long and winding path through the whispering trees of the Sleeping Forest, Meenah stopped and looked around, and realized that every tree around her looked the same as the others, and she had no idea which way to go next. She threw down her pack and shed angry tears, and they dripped from her chin and struck the path like stones.

Then there was a great clapping of leathery wings overhead, and Meenah looked up and let out a shout of alarm. Even her bold heart felt a stab of fear, for peering down at her from the creaking branches of a tree was a dragon, with eyes as red as flame.

"Why do you weep, little one?" it asked.

"I ain't cryin'!" Meenah protested. "I'm just..." She swallowed and squared her shoulders. As if she was going to make nice to a dragon, just because it could eat her in one bite! "Aw, forget it. Listen, this has gotta be your forest, right? You seen a blue-blooded troll girl anywhale around here? Dark hair, loves treasure, never shuts up?"

The dragon resettled its wings with a clamorous rustle. "As a matter of fact, yes, I have. She told me a number of fascinating stories, and I told her a few of my own in return. She seemed very interested in gold and jewels. Why do you ask?"

Hope sprang up again in Meenah's heart. "Which way'd she go?"

"You're a rude little thing," murmured the dragon. "But your golden bracelets are very lovely. Give them to me, and perhaps I'll tell you."

"What?" Meenah cried. The rings and the pins had been bad enough, and she had almost nothing left but her own crown and bracelets, and the silver necklace. "No glubbin' way, you flappin' sack of...!"

The dragon licked its chops thoughtfully. "Sack of what, my dear?" it asked. "Do please go on."

A few minutes later, a fuming mermaid was tramping along the forest path again. Her wrists were bare, but her feet were turned toward the Valley of the Whispering Stones, far to the west.

She followed the dragon's directions from hill to hill, from valley to valley, until her soft new feet ached and blistered despite her boots, and finally turned leathery and hard. She followed them off the beaten path, through a thick woodland and down a fern-choked valley, where the moss hung in long waving banners from the branches and the fog crept thick and silver between the trees. And there she found herself confronted with two things that made her stop and think.

The first was that the moons had turned their raiment more than half around. She had barely enough time to find her way back to the sea, if she turned back right away.

And the second was that she was lost.

A fit of frustration and rage overwhelmed her then, my palest. Oh, how she swore! The kicks she delivered with her aching feet, scattering stones into the bog! She hardly noticed at first that the fog was swirling closer, thickening until her hair was spangled with droplets of water. But then something bumped against her knees, and her still-new legs tangled together so that she landed with a mighty splash in the rank water.

Choking and spitting mud, she looked up and saw a ghostly shape looming over her. At first she mistook it for a bush, or an especially dense cloud of mist. But then it trotted closer, and she saw that it was a curly-horned woolbeast.

"Oh, stop that racket," it sighed. "It isn't doing you any good, and besides, I should like to be left in peace."

Meenah wiped the mud out of her eyes and sat up, grasping at straws. "Did you see a troll girl around here anywhale? Never shuts..."

"Perhaps," interrupted the woolbeast, pawing at the grass absently. "Or perhaps not. I don't really care, and it doesn't really matter either way. She's long gone by now, one way or another."

That sounded rather ominous to Meenah, and she leapt to her feet. "Water you glubbin' about? Fess up, Horny! Which way did she go?"

The woolbeast sighed again, and cropped a bit of the muddy grass, ignoring her.

"Hey," Meenah said, pulling her feet free of the sucking mud. "Look, halibut if I gave you something?"

Raising its head, the woolbeast gave her a bland look. Grass dribbled from the corner of its mouth. "I suppose your golden crown would look well with my horns," it said. "Not that I couldn't do without it, but if you insist. Yes, that would do."

Meenah only paused for a moment. Then, with gritted teeth, she reached up and tore the crown from her head, and tossed it at the feet of the woolbeast.

"Whatebber," she snapped. "Now show me where she is, you stupid bleater!"

The woolbeast stretched down its head and picked up the crown in its blunt teeth. "You could have asked politely, you know," it told her, somewhat muffled. "She did. I told her that she could find all the jewels she wanted in the Heart of the World. And you can too, or fall into the bog and drown, for all I care."

With that, it loped swiftly off into the fog, nimbly jumping from hillock to hillock. As the sound of its hooves faded away, so did the mist.

And what did that reveal, my dearest, but a line of dainty shod footprints, pressed into the mud of the bog! They picked their way between the pools of murky water, and finally vanished into a vast dark crevice between two great stones.

"Yeah, you betta run, you two-faced hairball," Meenah grumbled to the silent trees around her, and kicked another stone into the water with a plop. "I otter just go home." And she knew it was true. She'd come this far on good faith, but if she didn't set out promptly, she might never find her way back to the sea in time to reclaim her crown.

The mermaid shot one last glance up at the bright light of the moons. She let out a long, irritated sigh. Then, she pulled the blanket she used for a cloak tight around her shoulders and trudged on, through the deep mud and wet, into the pitch dark of the cave.

It was silent there, my dearest, except for the faint and faraway dripping of water and the soft echo of her own breath against the walls. I daresay you wouldn't have liked it much, that long blind walk through the shadows. But Meenah was a mermaid, and quite used to the lightless depths of the sea. She simply hunched her shoulders and swept her arms back and forth in front of her, to keep from blundering into the damp walls; and on she walked, down and down into the heart of the world.

"Aranea?" she called, after some time.

Her own voice answered her, rebounding from an unseen ceiling far overhead: _Aranea? 'Ranea? 'Ranea?_

Meenah scowled, not sure if this was another mystery of the landglubbers' world or simply someone mocking her in the dark. "Yeah, Aranea! Blue eyes, never shuts 'er gob, crawls down holes lookin' fer treasure?"

 _Treasure? Sure? Sure?_ the echoes asked, softly.

The mermaid opened her mouth again to give an angry answer, then hesitated. Was she sure? She'd listened to so many stories from Aranea about gamblignants and their exploits, but why had the trollmaid really run away?

"I dunno," she admitted, and the echoes sang back, _No, no, no._

Wrapping her arms around herself in the cold dark, Meenah found herself shivering, and grimaced. The pendant of Aranea's bartered necklace was a cold weight on her chest, suddenly as heavy as an anvil strung around her neck.

"She came down here 'cause of me," she said, slowly, feeling her way through the words as if they were another dark passageway, littered with unpleasant truths. "She just wanted to tell her dumb stories to somebody, but I made her pay me to listen. And then she ran outta stuff to give, and she thought I wouldn't listen anymore. But I woulda!"

 _Woulda! Woulda!_ cried the echoes, bouncing and laughing.

Meenah clenched her fists. "Whale, I shoulda, then!" she shouted. "Even I ain't that shellfish! It was a stupid glubbin' thing to do, and I never shoulda done it in the first place! She's my only friend!"

 _Friend! Friend! Friend!_ was the clamoring refrain, echoing through the twisting caves to the farthest, deepest crevices under the hills. Slowly, they faded away into a whisper, and then nothing.

Surrounded by darkness, trembling in the cold, Meenah could feel soft fingers of underground air brushing lightly through her hair. How many living creatures had wandered into this hole to die, in search of jewels they would never find?

The mermaid blinked, and a tear beaded on her lashes, and ran warm down her cheek. Angrily, she dashed it away on her sleeve, and turned to retrace her steps back into the light.

And then, my palest, there came the softest murmur you can imagine: the voice of a weary trollmaid, woken from an exhausted sleep.

"...Meenah?"

"Oh, my cod," the mermaid gasped. "Aranea! Izzat you?!"

She was about to run forward, but the trollmaid's voice rang out in the dark, stronger now.

"Meenah! Hold still! Don't take another step!"

There was a faint tapping, like a flame being struck. A dim light filled the cave, illuminating a craggy ceiling and walls that glittered with many-colored crystals. The light was spilling up out of a deep crack in the rocky floor, only a few paces from where Meenah stood.

Dropping to her hands and knees, she crept close to the hole and peered in. From the depths, a pale face gazed back up at her, thrown into stark shadows by the light of a tiny lantern. It was a leaner face than had bid her farewell on the white sands, but its eyes were still as blue as the stars.

"You found me," Aranea whispered, and the lantern trembled in her hands - for more than one night had passed since her tumble into that crack, and her food was long gone and her lamp oil on the verge of running out. "How did you do it? Oh, Meenah," she cried, and burst into tears of relief.

A strange giddy feeling swelled up in the mermaid's chest, which startled her considerably. She harrumph'ed loudly and tried to reach down a hand to her friend, figuring that it would be easier to shush her once she was out of the hole; and then she discovered a dreadful thing, indeed.

The crack was not deep enough to kill with a fall. But it was too deep for Meenah's hand to reach Aranea's.

"Stop blubbering," Meenah snapped, after several attempts to reach further proved useless. "You got any rope?"

Aranea wiped snuffily at her face with her dirty sleeves, and shook her head 'no'.

"Any rocks down there you could pile up?"

"If there were, I should think I'd be out of here by now!" Aranea pointed out, a bit sharply. She was very hungry and cold and tired, my dearest diamond, and we must forgive her for being rather snappish. Meenah did, after all.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, and sighed. She sat down on the cold stone, and she pulled her knees up to her chin and knit her brows together, and thought. And as she thought, she absently twisted the ends of her long dark braids.

Aranea sat down as well, but she put her light out first, my dearest, to save oil, which was sensible of her.

"You could hold the edge and swing your legs down," she suggested, after a moment.

Meenah shook her head. "Too risky," she said. "One slip and we'd be in the same net."

"What if you went for help?"

"Who'd help me?" Meenah said, with a scoffing little snort. "Nobubbly even likes me."

Hidden in the dark, Aranea smiled. "I like you," she said.

The sudden rush of warmth that tingled all over her face made Meenah press her hands to her cheeks. "Yeah, whale," she sputtered, scowling. "You're a dumbass with...with awful taste. That don't count."

"If you say so," Aranea said, though she thought privately that Meenah hadn't any business talking about taste, in stories or anything else; and so they relapsed into silence again.

And there they might have stayed until they starved, my palest; but as Meenah sat there, chewing on the end of her braid, an idea dawned in the back of her mind. It crept up on her slowly, but when it seized her, the simplicity of it made her mouth drop open.

"Hey," came her blunt voice, bouncing down the crack like a pebble. "You got a knife?"

Puzzled, Aranea nodded. "Ye-es," she said, uncertainly, "but I doubt I could climb the walls with it. It's only a little one, for eating with..."

"Toss it up here, will ya?" Meenah insisted. "An' quit talkin' at me, or we'll be here all night!"

Gingerly, Aranea took the knife by the point and tossed it up, ready to dodge if it came back down again. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard it clatter on the stone overhead.

"Perfect!" crowed the mermaid. And then there came a sudden _rrrip!_ and a grunted, "Ow!"

"Meenah?" Aranea called, suddenly worried. "What in the world are you doing? Are you all right?"

The answer was another shearing _rip!_ "That one was easier," Meenah said, sounding rather pleased with herself. "For the luvva cod, Aranea, clam down and gimme some light up here!"

Heart still thumping, Aranea lit the lamp with shaking fingers. There followed a long pause and quite a lot of rustling and muttering from above, while Aranea sat on the cold stone and twiddled her thumbs, round and round. Just as she was thinking of calling out again...

"Ha!" came a triumphant exclamation. "All right, Chatfish, hold onto your scuttlebutt! Here comes rescue!"

A shadow swung against the wall, growing longer and longer. Aranea looked up and saw that it was cast by a rope, dangling down into the crack! Amazed, she reached up and caught the end of it as it came within reach.

"Got it?" Meenah asked.

"Got it!" Aranea shouted, and the echoes cheered the both of them: _Got it! Got it! Got it!_

Swiftly the trollmaid blew out her lantern, tied it to her pack and slung the pack over her shoulder. The rope felt silky-soft in her hands, but it was tightly woven and strong. She braced her feet against the wall of the crack; and with pulling and tugging, slipping and scrabbling, and no small amount of grunting and cursing - ha! She was heaved up over the edge, my palest, and fell gasping into her friend's arms.

"Gotcha," Meenah said, breathing hard. "C'mon, Chatfish, you got us down here. Lead us outta here already!"

The trek up out of the cavern seemed shorter with a warm hand to hold, and the pair emerged into the open air just as the last sunlight bled away over the horizon. Aranea turned to get a good look at her friend, overflowing with thanks and questions. But as her eyes fell upon her, what came out instead was a gasp.

"Oh, Meenah," she whispered, and her blue eyes were wide with dismay. "Oh, no! How could you...you didn't have to...oh, your beautiful hair!"

By the gentle light of moonrise, it was impossible not to notice the short, choppy curls that now framed Meenah's face, wisping gently around the exposed nape of her neck.

"What?" she said, with an airy shrug. "I was gonna chop that mess off someday anyway. It was that or my clothes, and like shell am I gonna walk home naked. It'll grow back, Chatfish."

The thought of that soft dark rope lying discarded in the depths of the cave made tears spring to Aranea's eyes all over again. Blinking them away, she threw her arms around Meenah and held her close.

"Whoa!" the mermaid exclaimed, struggling for a moment - but only a moment, my palest. A hug from her little trollmaid, as it happened, was not at all like a hug from her ancestor. In fact, it was quite different indeed.

And now, my diamond, our tale begins to wind to a close. For soon enough, all of Aranea's questions came rushing back into her mind, and had to be answered as quickly as possible. Oh, the argument that followed, my dearest! And oh, the race across swamp and wood, hills and trees, following their own tracks back again against the inexorable turning of the moons! But they were never short of food or shelter, for Aranea had not wasted her long sojourn at the bottom of that hole, and her pockets were stuffed with many-colored jewels.

They slept only when it was too hot to walk, and stopped walking only when their bellies demanded food; and when one fell, the other held her up; and when one faltered, the other was there to catch her.

Until, at last, the trollmaid and the mermaid struggled hand in hand down the path towards the long-cool ashes of a ruined hive.

How tired they were, my palest heart! How narrow and treacherous those winding stairs looked to their aching eyes, under the faint light of the fading moons! They clutched at each other's hands, and fell wearily to their knees. Gently, Aranea leaned her forehead against her friend's, and ran her fingers through her short, wispy hair.

"We made it," she whispered. "Oh, Meenah, I'm so happy for you."

It wasn't a lie, dear one. But neither was the tear that slid down her cheek. Meenah reached out and brushed it away, and looked at it where it clung to her finger, glinting blue like a star in the moonlight.

What crossed her mind then, kneeling at the top of the winding stair? Who could know, but Meenah herself? But if I were to hazard a guess, my palest, I imagine she thought of heavy gold jewelry and the depths of the sea. The valley where her ancestors ruled, and its terrible dark beauty. The fathoms of black water that rose so far above that crystal palace that every last star was blotted out.

A gentle shake from Aranea woke her from her thoughts. "The moons are setting," the trollmaid cried. "Meenah, you have to go, quick! Here, I'll help you," and she stood and hauled her to her feet after her.

But Meenah pushed her hands away. She looked up at the brilliant moons where they swam in the sky like faraway fish; and a smile split her face from ear to ear.

"Nah," she said, pulling the ring from her finger. "I can do this myself."

She flung it high, my palest love, and she flung it far. It flew in a high arc across the night sky, sparkling like a tiny falling star, and struck the water with a soft, final _plunk._ The waves swallowed the splash, leaving not a ripple behind.

"Oh!" cried Aranea, hands flying to cover her mouth in horror. "Oh, no!" She caught up her skirts and ran toward the cliff. Meenah caught her by the wrist, but she struggled. "Let me go! We can still fish it out, it isn't too late, oh, Meenah, you can't do this for me, it isn't fair...mmph!"

Wide-eyed, she stared over the hand that had firmly corked her mouth. Meenah's bright eyes stared back, triumphantly, without a trace of regret.

"Shush, Chatfish. Who said I did it just for you?" she said, with a smirk, and let her go. She walked to the cliff's edge, looked out over the glittering expanse of the sea, and shook her head. "You knew I'd do it, didn't you? You old witch."

"Meenah?" said the trollmaid. She was still confused, but she came to stand beside her just the same, and slipped her hand into hers.

"Here," Meenah said, and pulled the necklace from around her neck, and settled it over her friend's. "This otter stay with you, Aranea. We can always catch some more, right?"

"Right," said Aranea, and held her hand very tightly.

They stood side by side at the top of the cliff, my palest; two trollmaids, with their tattered skirts and soft dark hair blowing around their faces in the wind. They watched the horizon together until the moons sank down behind it, and vanished completely. The sea sighed a farewell against the white sands and the rocks far below. Then Meenah tossed her head defiantly at the wind, and gave Aranea a wicked smile.

"I ain't gonna say I'm saury, you know," she said.

And Aranea smiled back; for she understood her mermaid very well. "I know," she said, simply, and gave Meenah's hand a squeeze. "C'mon, you jellyfish. Let's go find some more treasure!"

And so they did. But that is another story, and unless you have a jeweled pin of your own to trade me, it will have to wait for another time.

But did they live happily ever after?

Of course they did, my darling. All the best heroines do.

 

 

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> For the request, "I want to see a fairy tale involving these two! I want mermaids, princesses, unicorns, magic, the whole nine yards! You could ship them or you could keep them as best friends. I would however like either a happy or bittersweet ending; no soul destroying sad endings!"
> 
> I managed to work in a mermaid princess and a bit of magic, and three out of four isn't bad, I think! There are quite a few traditional fairy tales woven into the DNA of this thing, as well as some bits of Kipling, which was very helpful when I got stuck on who would even tell fairy tales to whom in familyless Alternian troll culture. (It was the image of two long-ago moirails curling up in a pile to trade legends and stories that finally galvanized me into writing this thing.) The finale went through iterations drawing on everything from The Lilting, Leaping Lark to the myth of Orpheus before Aranea's weary little voice spoke up in the dark of that cave and told me in no uncertain terms that Tom Sawyer was close enough to a fairy tale for my purposes, thank you very much.
> 
> It was a lot of fun to write, even though I waited until the last minute to get going, and I hope it was satisfying to read. Happy Ladystuck, mericorn!


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